


A Tight Knit

by ishtarelisheba



Series: Domestic Rumbelle Family [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Rumbelle Showdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-25 05:12:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3797998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishtarelisheba/pseuds/ishtarelisheba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumbelle Showdown 2015 - Round Three - (prompts: girl’s night, Easter eggs, duel)</p><p>Belle is weary of being left out of the Storybrooke girls' outings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Tight Knit

Belle had gotten in a new shipment of books to inventory, prepare, and shelve. He went by after closing up shop, thinking to go home together to relieve Henry of babysitting duty, but he found her sitting at the front desk with stacks of books as tall as she was surrounding her. More sat in open-winged boxes on the floor. When she smiled brilliantly at him in that way she smiled only for new books, he knew he would be heading home alone. She’d given him a kiss and a promise to be home by seven.

When he got home, Henry was _vroom_ ing airplanes around the living room on his knees, and wee Rafe was hanging with an arm about his bigger nephew’s neck, another of his little plastic planes weaving through the air as he imitated Henry’s sounds. With no one else available to pick their little one up from pre-school, Henry had been happy to volunteer, and Rafe was ecstatic to have the time with his very best friend. After Henry left, Rafe lasted for all of ten minutes of his favorite storybook on the sofa before leaning on his Papa’s shoulder and passing out.

And so Rumpelstiltskin stood at the stove, intent on having dinner ready when Belle got home. There were still a good two hours before she would call it a day and leave the rest of the books for tomorrow, he figured. Plenty of time to prepare a fine meal for the three of them. He was very nearly finished when he felt a little tug at his trouser leg.

“Up,” Rafe requested.

“And how did you liberate yourself?” Rumpel asked, grinning. He’d left the boy safely in his living room playpen, snuggled down with his blanket and stuffed turtle, sound asleep.

Rafe grinned right back up at him with his tongue peeking from between his teeth, all flyaway sandy brown hair and bright blue eyes to which his father could deny nothing.

“There’ll be no locked door safe from you someday, will there?” Rumpel said with a fond shake of his head. “Of all things to inherit, I suppose the escapee gene isn’t the worst you could have gotten.”

Rafe tugged again, bouncing on his toes, and only let go stretch his arms high. “Papa, up now!” he demanded, having no time for discussion over it.

Rumpel leaned down, sweeping the toddler up into the air with a thrilled little squeal, and he set his son on his hip while he finished cooking. Rafe held on with one arm around his Papa’s shoulder and the other hand holding tight to the neck of his waistcoat, content to watch him work.

“Would you like to taste?” he asked, and received a nod in return. He blew on the wooden spoon and touched it himself to be sure it was cool enough before holding it up. “Show me one finger,” he said, and Rafe pointed his forefinger. “All right, touch the spoon and taste.”

Rafe’s eyes lit up at the flavor. “Mmm!” he hummed happily, sucking on his fingertip.

Rumpel chuckled. “Good, eh?”

“Good!” Rafe declared, returning his hand, licked finger and all, to holding onto his Papa’s waistcoat.

“Does it need anything?”

Rafe screwed up his face thoughtfully before deciding, “Juice.”

“Juice, hm?”

Rafe nodded, quite serious in his decision, and his Papa nodded back with equal solemnity. He looked over at the bottle of red wine on the counter and took it. The alcohol would cook out enough. Tipping a small splash in, he called it good.

He wouldn’t have known Belle had come home if he hadn’t heard the front door click heavily shut. He didn’t hear her purse thump into its usual place on the sofa end table, or her keys right next to it. She was entirely too quiet coming in, and he frowned. With new books in her possession, Belle would have come home full of cheerful chatter.

“Mommy?” Rafe said, tugging at his Papa’s clothes.

“I hear, sweetheart.” Dinner was nearly ready to set in the oven for finishing. He poured in a bit more stock from the simmering saucepan of it on the back eye, stirred it once more, and placed on the lid before carefully transferring it to the hot oven. “All right, let’s go and see what Mommy is up to, hmm?”

“Hmmm,” Rafe hummed, nodding his head.

They found her fussing around the living room, straightening things Rumpel had already straightened. Her silence was complete and disconcerting.

“Belle, darling?” he said, setting Rafe down to run after her. He was a bit relieved when she sat down on the sofa to scoop him into her lap. He sat next to her. “Something is wrong.”

“Oh, nothing,” she said, turning her head awkwardly to kiss their baby’s cheek where he had his face buried contentedly in her neck. She was attempting to hide hurt feelings, but he could see. Her own masks were easily transparent, when it came to him.

He sat back, slipping his arm around her and bringing her close. “It’s nothing,” she sighed, allowing a frown to form. “I shouldn’t even be upset.”

Rumpel wanted to ask questions – wanted to ask who needed to end up occupying their back garden, really – but he was quiet. She would give in and talk about it eventually.

Sure enough, a few more moments and, “Ashley came by to pick up a book for Alexandra’s father to read to her tonight, while she’s out with the girls.”

He waited, hoping for more, but she didn’t volunteer it this time. “I don’t understand,” he said, encouraging her to continue.

“There’s a girl’s night been arranged. Ashley, Snow, Emma, Ruby, Aurora, Tink.” Her frown grew in strength. “Mulan was invited. She turned them down.”

Rumpel was beginning to catch on. It hadn’t been easy for Belle to break into the cliques that people in town had formed. Many of the women knew one another for a decade even before the curse swept everyone away, and others had bonded in different ways after it lifted.

“Oh,” he said, a grumble behind it. They’d left her out. Not even an invitation, apparently. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s nothing to do with you,” she said, shaking her head.

She could claim it all she liked, but he was sure it didn’t help that they viewed her squarely in a column with him. It seemed the only time they sought her out was when they wanted something. It was a direct consequence of their association, as far as he was concerned.

“I have _tried_ to make friends with them. I’ve been useful, I’ve been kind. I’ve babysat for little Neal and Alexandra, for goodness sake! And Alexandra is no walk in the park, believe you me.” She burrowed closer into his side, and he tightened his arm around her. “I just don’t understand what more I can do, Rumpel.”

He lifted his hand, cradling her head with it, and hid his deepening frown in a kiss to her temple. “If you truly wish to continue trying to make friends with them, all I can tell you is to keep trying, darling,” he said. 

He would happily give each and every one of them a nice, slimy stint in the spice garden fertilizer, if she would allow it. Particularly Ashley, who appeared to have made sure that Belle knew what she hadn’t been asked out for. She might forgive someday, but he had an excellent and very long memory.

“I know. And I will. I won’t give up. But I’m going to stop dwelling on it right now. We have our own plans for the night.” She nodded stubbornly. “And much better for involving my two favorite people. Just… it would have been nice to be _invited_.”

“I know,” he sighed, stroking his thumb along her cheekbone before letting his hand drop away.

She took a deep breath, shaking off her hurt feelings as best she could. “So! Are things set up for the eggs later?”

“I believe there’s time to dye them for tomorrow while dinner finishes cooking,” he suggested. “Everything is ready – all that needs doing is boiling the water for the tablets.” He would fill the evening and night with distractions for her, and hopefully she would have no time to think about the snub.

Belle had been excited to dye eggs for the town’s Ostara celebration since finding the packages for it at the grocery. In their world, red was traditional. Those more adept at it wrapped eggs with string or used wax drippings to create designs, but in this world, there was an entire rainbow of colors commonly involved.

“Rafe will be covered with dye, you know,” Belle warned. At least he was wearing his play clothes.

“Knowing him, so will we.” Rumpel grinned, and she laughed. “I could tell you about the time I dueled Don Juan, taking the fall so that he could impress his lady love, Doña Ana,” he offered with a grin. “Will that cheer you up?”

Belle gave him a knowing smile. When Don Juan came up, often so did certain other things. “I think perhaps not while little ears are listening, if this story ends the way I suspect it will.”


End file.
